


1945

by cleodoxa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-08 17:51:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11651667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cleodoxa/pseuds/cleodoxa
Summary: Dumbledore is gearing up for his historic duel with Grindelwald and Horace guesses a little of what this means to him.





	1945

It was a strange time, 1945. There had been strange times before and Merlin knew there would be strange times again. Still, Horace’s mind retained the strangeness of 1945. There was a dense atmosphere of almost unspoken expectation and anticipation around Hogwarts. The routines of lessons, marking, meals and small talk with colleagues all continued without interruption but the thoughts of those participating in them were elsewhere. Horace was as jolly and untroubled as anyone in company, and brooded underneath as much as anyone on the gathering storm of Grindelwald. There was expectation as well as dread at Hogwarts because it felt coyly aware of possessing a talismanic ace up its sleeve in the form of its Transfiguration professor. This possession was, however, passing by the day from coy to perturbed, as Dumbledore did nothing and communicated no intention to do anything. He showed little acknowledgement even of the situation. 

Horace knew that Dumbledore rarely squandered seriousness on outward show and that his affable equanimity could not be expected to give very much away. He was always torn as to whether he would like people to keep up a cosy manner as though everything was happening as it ought, or whether he liked it better when they confided the reasons things weren’t going so well. Well, of course he liked it best when they told him, or at least let details slip for him to pick up. Rather, it was difficult for Horace to decide on the ideal balance between there being nothing for people to tell him and there being far too many unpleasant things for people to tell him and expect him to do something about. He wanted his cosiness to come from a knowledge that he knew everything there was to know and had it all in hand without breaking a sweat.

Horace didn’t know much about what Dumbledore was thinking. No one did, as far as he knew, and he didn’t like being no different. The faith which Dumbledore’s colleagues, no less than the students, had in him, only grew as it failed to be realised. Dumbledore was the man who could do something about Grindelwald – if only he would. Horace had to admire the understated way in which Dumbledore combined being almost a Great Man already with his unassuming position as Transfiguration professor. Not that a Hogwarts professor didn’t play a vital part in the social and intellectual life of the wizarding world, Horace hurriedly added in his thoughts, but not everyone realised that.

The thing about Dumbledore’s lack of action was that one had to discard the most obvious explanation, the reason which was preventing everyone else from stepping up to Grindelwald, telling him enough was enough and taking him on – natural self-interested desire to keep one’s soul in one’s body. Dumbledore had much less reason than most to fear that anyway, being the phenomenal wizard that he was, and he wouldn’t let those considerations prevent him from protecting others. There must be something else.

*

Dumbledore appeared in Horace’s office late one afternoon during that tense time. He levitated before him a large tank of frogspawn.

“Is this all for me? How generous,” Horace said.

“Yes, if you can use it. My fifth years were transforming tadpoles into frogs. One went a little wrong and contrived to multiply the effects in her panic. I learn things about Transfiguration in the classroom that I’d never have learnt outside it.”

“So true. I try to prepare myself to contain my resentment on the day a student discovers a wonder potion through sheer error.”

Dumbledore was clearly ready to leave Horace to it but Horace fixed him with a serious look even while he was speaking these words, which made it clear that he had something else to say.

“You’ve known Grindelwald, haven’t you?” Horace asked. He asked it lightly enough that he might almost have been asking idly about a pleasant acquaintance, but in Dumbledore’s electric blue glance returning Horace’s solemn gaze something of the undercurrents could be seen.

“I’ll admit that I have, though ‘known’ is a difficult word. Is it sheer astuteness which makes you ask or have you gained information from somewhere?” Dumbledore asked.

“Sheer astuteness,” Horace beamed. He could see Dumbledore working to adjust to discussing this undefined knowledge of Grindelwald, as if unused to it existing outside his head. “Of course you know that people are waiting for you to confront him and wondering why you don’t. I realised as soon as I thought about it properly that there was only one reason why you might be reluctant.”

Dumbledore sighed. “I suppose there might be only one reason but it feels like many. I will confront him – but I have been telling myself that I must wait for the moment when the balance has tipped so far that I have the _right_.”

Horace could see the tangled web of thoughts and feelings closer to the surface than he’d ever seen it before. He’d suspected the tangle was there but it was fascinating to see it more clearly. It made Dumbledore seem stronger, somehow, keeping such a complex structure together.

“I don’t know what the right thing to say is,” Horace said. “I don’t suppose I would even if you told me the whole story, which I don’t expect, don’t worry. But I did want to say something as soon as I guessed as much as I have.” It was difficult because he didn’t want to say the word ‘love’. “It’s for his own good. Think of it as doing it partly for him, if you like. You work for his good when you uphold what you know to be right. You’re not ending his ability to see that for himself if you defeat him.”

Dumbledore was silent. Horace couldn’t tell if it was the awkward pause of someone given meaningless advice or if he’d really struck on something useful.

“You’re right,” Dumbledore said. “I believe it will do me good to think about that.” He nodded and was gone.

Horace hoped that Dumbledore had seen something of what he’d _wanted_ to say about love and different forms of forgiveness and duty.

Horace always did pride himself a little somehow on Dumbledore’s defeat of Grindelwald. And he was glad he had that little bit of pride to hang onto. It helped soothe the irony of having told Tom Riddle about Horcruxes a mere fortnight later. Horace always felt that Dumbledore remembered that moment too, and that reassured him that it was worth hanging onto.


End file.
